


hurry down the chimney

by somethinglikegumption



Series: most wonderful time of the year [6]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Mild Sexual Content, jughead jones and the terrible horrible no good very bad day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 16:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17062715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethinglikegumption/pseuds/somethinglikegumption
Summary: Jughead Jones is having the day from hell and nothing can turn it around. (Well, maybe one thing.)





	hurry down the chimney

**Author's Note:**

> [Sarah](https://theheavycrown.tumblr.com/) prompted me with "been an awful good girl". Of course it got a little kinky.

Jughead’s Friday was the day from hell. Scratch that, calling it the day from hell would be an understatement. 

It started with a lonely wakeup in a cold bed and a blaring car horn outside the window. 

Usually Betty would still be there in the mornings, but ever since she had started at the Times she was going in earlier and staying later to try and convince her boss to give her the good stories. 

When he turned over to burrow deeper into the covers, the light pouring in from behind the curtains tipped him off that it might be just a little later than he expected.

A quick glance at his phone, and he barely had time to curse out Apple for the close proximity of the Snooze and Stop buttons before he was rushing through a shower (ice cold), tugging on a dress shirt (bleach spot staining the collar), and running out the door to meet his editor (an asshole with a god complex and an unholy amount of red ink).

Two hours of edits and rephrases and multiple demands to ‘fix this, goddammit’ was all he could handle before he begged off and headed for his favorite coffee shop.

Of course he was greeted by more bad news.

A line ten people long waited on the other side of the door, held up by a man in a suit giving his no-fat-no-sugar-180-degrees-extra-shot-latte order. Jughead shared a sympathetic eye roll with the woman in front of him and wondered why the man didn’t just visit the Starbucks up the road instead.

Once he (finally) made it to the front of the line, he ordered his favorite dark roast, only to be told they weren’t brewing it today. Settling for the medium blend, he took his drink and turned for his usual table - only to find it occupied by a gaggle of moms with strollers. 

Hitching his laptop bag higher on his shoulder, he shouldered through the door and considered where else he could go to write for the day.

After starts and stops at the library, a bookstore, and no less than three other coffee shops, he threw in the towel and headed for home. It seemed the universe just wanted to keep screwing with him because his train was broken down with an anticipated 45 minute delay.

And obviously, when he took out his phone to call a ride, surge pricing was in effect leading a usually $10 ride to cost almost $30. 

A walk would do him good.

A full mile later, he unlocks the apartment door and almost falls inside to the warm air. The walk felt twice as long in the cold and he wanted a hot cup of coffee, a warm shower, and a pair of flannel pajama pants, in that order.

Until he sees the room fully. The white twinkle lights Betty had insisted on displaying on every available surface gave the space a soft cozy glow, and the speaker on the kitchen counter was playing an instrumental version of White Christmas. 

Sniffing the air, he can even scent a batch of fresh-baked sugar cookies.

“Betty?” he calls into the apartment, following his nose to the kitchen and finding the prize. He stuffs a cookie into his mouth and starts chewing faster when he hears the click of heels down the hall.

Red lace.

That’s all he can see when she rounds the corner.

Red lace, covering little and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

He steps out from behind the counter to take her in fully. The aforementioned red lace, red high heels, and a red Santa hat perched on top of her blond curls.

His mouth goes dry when her hands grasp his tie and pull him close, kissing him hard and leaving a smear from her red lipstick.

“I’ve been an awful good girl,” she whispers against his lips. “I think I want my present now.”

_Maybe, just maybe,_  Jughead thinks to himself as she pushes him down to the couch, hands moving towards his belt, _today wasn’t so terrible after all._


End file.
